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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474866">Omovember In Various Months</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinkleOmo/pseuds/TwinkleOmo'>TwinkleOmo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lesbian, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Omocute, Omorashi, Omovember, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Pee, Piss, Piss Desperation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trip, Whump, contains the f and d slur if anyone cares I’m a dyke myself so don’t cancel my piss porn, desperation and wetting, female omorashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinkleOmo/pseuds/TwinkleOmo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All my omovember fics in one neat little pile over the course of like a year because I physically don’t know if I can write 30 pissfics in a row and still be a functioning adult. Do you like lesbians? Do you like piss? Ew. Gross. Just kidding, you’ve found the right place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Day 1 Desperate in a Vehicle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Preston gets dragged to a concert because Cam is trying to impress Britney again but not trying to be obvious about it. They’re running late. Prest has to piss. What’s new?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Characters are 18+ and women. Last chance to back out if you aren’t into piss like some of us are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>God I’m such an idiot. I mean, it’s stupid enough to get into a car with the probably the dumbest person you know who only got their license two days ago. It’s stupid enough to let yourself be dragged to a fucking Ed Sheeran concert when the thought alone gives you a migraine. It’s stupid enough to be doing those two things at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But to have your hand firmly pressed into the crotch of your jeans as you try really, really hard not to piss yourself in a very new, very expensive car while everybody yells at you over it is just a little too stupid for my tastes. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Remind me again why we can’t pull over?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Cameron checks the time on her phone and exhales sharply. She turns around from the passenger seat to face me in the back, her expression pitying but mildly amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won’t make it on time if we pull over, Prest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> time if we don’t.” I reply irritatedly, bouncing my legs up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to find parking there, it's gonna take forever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh ok, cool, I guess I’ll just piss myself while we do that then.” I huff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down.” Cam scolds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna piss!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve established that.” Dylan says</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the love of god please don’t pee in my car.” Britney warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, why the hell are we even debating this? Why is Cam so dead set on getting to see Ed Sheeran on time? She hates Ed Sheeran just as much as I do. We’re all only going because of Britney. And we can totally still make it one time, it’s not like I take 20 minutes to piss anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dylan quietly groans in annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you just hold it?” she whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does she even know me? I whimper in response and bounce my legs even faster, I can feel tears prick into my eyes. Fuck, I have to go so fucking bad right now. Goddammit, just pull over, Brit. It’s not that hard. Just turn on that turn signal you learned about and let me hit up a gas station or something. I don’t care if it’s not clean or if everyone will tease me for making such a scene over it, it beats paying to have the upholstery cleaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Britney, please?”, I plead, “It’s an emergency!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can feel my face heating up in embarrassment. Almost on queue, I leak. Quite a bit. The crotch of my jeans becomes concerningly damp, more damp than I would like it to be by far. My heart jumps and I slam my legs together in a desperate attempt to not add to the damage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn't you go before we left?” Cam groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was two hours ago, I didn't have to go then! I'm serious, just-”, I painfully whimper, “Goddamnit please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Okay, okay. Chillax, Preston. Don't get your panties in a twist, damn.I’ll pull over when I see a place, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just tell me not to get my panties in a twist?” I snicker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won't take the next exit if that's how you're gonna be.” she smirks</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shut my mouth and ended up leaking again, a smaller amount this time. My whole body is quivering and I feel sick to my stomach. Tears start to form in my eyes as I realize that I’m probably not going to make it at this rate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, are you alright? Can you wait until she pulls over?” Dylan asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shyly shake my head no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Britney…” I say, my voice trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, I don’t think I can hold it.” I admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire car instantly goes into panic and Britney slams on the gas. Cam yells at Brit for speeding, Dylan yells at Cam for telling me no the past three times I’ve asked, and they all yell at me for not going before we left. Mid argument, we hear sirens. Police sirens directly behind us to be specific. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck no, fuck no, fuck no. If I”m not in a restroom in the next two minutes I’m done for. I see Britney cringe in the rearview mirror as she pulls over in a way different than the way I needed her to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cop gets out of his car and Britney rolls down the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dylan, I’m gonna piss. I can’t hold it.” I whimper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang tight, hang tight.” she urges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Preston, hold it.” she commands through gritted teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do as I’m told, if not in the most obvious way possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” the cop asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Britney opens her mouth to speak but I’m forced to interrupt her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can’t hold it.” I admit as I quickly undo my seatbelt as open the car door. I literally can't afford to piss in this car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud chorus of ‘oh my god’’s and ‘don’t you dare’’s fills my ears, but they’re all ignored. I attempt to at least run to the side of the car farthest away for the street, but I feel a hand grip my shoulder and hold me back. Fuck, the cop. I can’t do this, I really really truly cannot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I know you probably hear this excuse all the time but I’m literally about to-” I stutter. I feel the humiliating feeling of piss running down the leg of my jeans. It’s happening. Fuck, fuck fuck!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pissing myself.” I wince. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cop steps away in surprise and everyone in the car immediately goes quiet in shock. The cop goes back to his car and starts talking to the other cop as I stop fighting it and entirely soak my jeans. It feels never ending and I try not to let the fact that I’m enjoying it more than I should show in my face. Dylan steps out of the car for whatever reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, man.” I cringe as it all finally ends, my jeans sticking to my leg with disturbingly warm wetness.. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. But everyone in the car is practically dying laughing. ” she teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cop comes back to us and studies me a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you under the influence of alcohol?” he asks. I blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no?” I say, confused as to why he’s even asking until remembering that it would be a valid excuse as to why my jeans were drenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes me take a breathalyzer and walk in a straight line and recite the alphabet, which is absolutely mortifying because it’s four in the afternoon and just about every car on the freeway is trying to get a glimpse of what’s going on as my feet splash in the small puddles that have formed in my sneakers. The cop exhales as I successfully complete my assignment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna let your friend off the hook just this once because it seems you were the reason she was speeding. Don’t let it happen again.” he warns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir.” I nod embarrassedly as I remember I’m wearing a sweatshirt and tie it around my waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I get into the car and everyone sits in mostly silence aside from some desperately stifled laughter. I suck up my pride and crack a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have my permission to laugh.” I roll my eyes. And they all proceed to burst out laughing harder than I’ve heard any of them laugh in a while. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 2 Desk Wetting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I’m so sorry I’m new to Ao3 and trying my best. Preston’s an idiot and her teacher is a bitch because of it. Piss ensues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Haha I found out how to format!! All characters in sexual scenarios are 18 or older. Read my “refz” tag on tumblr. Preston is 18 in her junior year, the only reason this doesn’t take place when she’s 19 and a senior is because in the greater universe of my fics it wouldn’t make any sense. Contains female omorashi. Not your cup of pee? Don’t read!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Teachers need to chill the fuck out. Listen, I get it that teenagers are all little shits who just wanna get out of school already and I wouldn’t wanna deal with us either, but if you’re getting paid to do it there’s no need to be such a massive bitch all the time. Apparently it’s not their fault though. No, apparently it’s my fault. My fault that my idiot friend Josh dared me to chug four bottles of gatorade back to back without hurling. I mean, yeah I didn’t have to do it, but then I wouldn’t have gotten $20. Fine, I can see how that’s kinda my fault. But my third period teacher didn’t have to assign a test today and she didn’t have to make a rule saying that nobody was allowed to leave the room during it. And my fourth period teacher really didn’t have to have such a harsh tardy policy which forces me to sprint to her class everyday or risk detention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What I’m saying is, it’s really not my fault that I have to piss this badly right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scribble down the homework assignments I probably won’t do in my planner I never used. The writing is more messy than usual, I have to go so bad my hands are shaking. I finish writing and slam the planner shut before trying to casually walk up to her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ms. Perez? May I please use the restroom?” I ask in my nicest voice. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, you’ve already used your bathroom pass for the semester, remember? September 2nd?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was December 14th, of course I don’t remember that. Oh wait.. That’s the day I ditched class in favor of Taco Bell. Fuck, I’ve screwed myself over. I’ve screwed myself over so bad. No way would I be able to last another hour and twenty minutes like this, I can literally feel my bladder pressing up against the waistband of my jeans and I’m already bouncing my legs and squirming in my seat like an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She shrugs me off and starts to lecture. And lecture. And lecture. She’s lecturing for years. Centuries. I know it’s history class and all, but does it really have to be taught in real time? The scenario is so cliche I’m shocked I haven’t been in it sooner. I have to pee fucking so bad, holy fuck. I jam my hands between my legs and cross them out of sheer desperation to not risk accidentally letting any out, it helps.  I feel a pencil tap my left shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What?” I irritatedly whisper at the tapper, my friend Andrew. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Does wittle Pweston have to go to the potty?” he chides. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“ Leave me alone, dicksack.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Fuck, if a dumbass like him noticed I’m definitely being too obvious about it. I’m conflicted, do I sacrifice my pride or my (relative) comfort? I slide my hand out from between my legs and hold my legs still. Nope, nope nope nope. It feels like I’m seconds away from pissing myself when I act natural. I check the time. How the hell do we still have an hour left?!</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ms Perez?”, I beckon, “May I</span>
  <em>
    <span> please</span>
  </em>
  <span> use the restroom?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Some kids snicker, probably noticing that I’m drenched in sweat and trembling like a cold chihuahua.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Is it an emergency?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallow my pride for the sake of my pants. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You should’ve thought of that on September 2nd.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The class laughs again. It takes all of my strength not to lose my shit over that. That was over three months ago, how the fucking hell was I supposed to know that I would be on the verge of pissing myself in the middle of her class in a few months? And this bitch has the nerve to keep on lecturing. I have to piss too badly to pay attention, much less write notes. Andrew taps me again.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What now? More words of wisdom?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“She usually gives in at this point. Guess she just hates you.” he shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Andrew, if I piss myself I am placing 23% of the blame on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His eyes widen.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You have to go that bad, huh?” he chuckles as I rock back and forth in my seat with my hands still between my legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t see how he couldn’t have realized that yet. I feel tears prick into my eyes. I can’t tell if it’s because this hurts so much or if it’s because I can tell that I’m reaching the end of my rope at a quick and dreadful pace. Panicking is only making it worse. I need a plan. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need a plan. Why can't I think of a plan? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then something horrifying happens. I leak. A ton. It surprises me so much that I whimper in surprise and take a sharp breath. A few kids turn their heads so I try my best to act natural to some extent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they lose interest I quickly inspect that crotch of my jeans. Fuck, it's noticeable. It's really noticeable, there’s a patch about the size of my palm and a couple drops of piss already on the desk chair. I start hardcore freaking out. I can't hold it much longer. Hell, I don't even know if this counts as “holding it”. The stain on my jeans is only gonna get bigger if I don't do anything about it. I shakily raise my hand for the second time in five minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said no, Preston.” she says, barely turning away from the board. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I whimper again in frustration, more heads turn. Some kids whisper. Holy fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m usually not so shy with this kind of stuff, but I literally know only one person in here and it’s fucking Andrew. If I was with my friends I could at least laugh it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”, I beg, “I know you don't want me to miss anymore class, but I- I can't even focus right now!” I whine, my voice shaking. I'm willing to do just about anything to not piss myself right now. I can brush off any comments about this, but if I don’t make it I’m never gonna live it down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ms. Perez slams the dry erase marker into the built in tray on the whiteboard and puts her hands on her hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but we're gonna use this as a learning opportunity. See, kids? This is why we don't skip class-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck fuck fuck! She's lecturing again. I leak once more, a small puddle starts to form on the chair. I panic and try to sit back further in it to try and cover it up. The feeling of wetness only causes another spurt to escape, somehow traveling up the seat of my jeans. I'm not gonna make it, there’s no way. This isn't happening. This can not fucking be happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because leaving class at all detracts from your learning and then you use up passes that you're going to need later. And on that note, you really should be going before class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leaks become longer and much more frequent. Even if she stops lecturing right this second everyone is gonna see that my jeans are soaked when I stand up and there’s no way I’m making it all the way to the bathroom, but if worst comes to worst at least I can hide somewhere and avoid making a scene over the inevitable. Another wave of desperation hits me and I can tell my time is running out fast. Hell, can I even move from this position? I slowly uncross my legs to test the waters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let out a shaky gasp in surprise as the floodgates stop leaking and burst open entirely. My hand instinctively flies to my mouth as I freeze in shock and try really really hard not to make my heavy breathing obvious. Everybody in the room except for the teacher who's too wrapped up in her fucking lecturing can tell what's going on. A puddle forms on the desk chair and dribbles down to the scratchy classroom carpet. Loudly. To the point where I wonder how the hell she can't hear it. I cross my legs to try and quiet it in sheer mortification but now I can hear people whispering. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you can't really come crawling back to me if you miss information, because you chose to leave class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's no point in trying to hold back at this point, there's no going back or covering it up now. I put my head on my desk in defeat. Pissing after holding it for a long time is probably one of the greatest feelings in the world. Even if it is in your jeans during the middle of history class. Okay that was the grossest thing I've ever thought. Ignore that please. But I’m not wrong. But-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So in short, be smart about your bathroom passes. Now hurry, Preston.” Ms. Perez nods. My face is burning with embarrassment as I nervously bite my tongue knowing I had no choice but to fess up before someone did it before me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-Too late.” I stutter through the tears pricking in my eyes. I feel like I'm gonna pass out. My face is so hot with embarrassment it feels on fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face goes pale, almost sickly so. She stands still, unsure of what to say. All eyes are either on me or her.  I slowly stand up, covering my ass with my backpack and my crotch with my spiral which was nowhere near the right size for the task at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, uh, I’m gonna go now.” I blush, regretting my choice of words but leaving before any obvious jokes can be made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I don't come back. I embarrassedly stormed outside the school, rummaging for my car keys and pressing the car unlock button for way longer than necessary before practically diving into the driver's seat. I start the car and let my head rest against the steering wheel as it turns on, still in park. I glance down at my jeans and can’t help but to find a little humor in it. If people give me shit for it there’s nothing I can do. This so obviously is not my fault.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 3: Relieving Themselves in the Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>WARNING FOR ANXIETY/ PANIC DISORDERS. IF THAT TRIGGERS YOU SKIP THIS ONE!</p><p>While staying together in a communal cabin at a summer camp in off season, Cam realizes she'll either have to face her phobia of public restrooms or somehow sneak out and go outside with no one noticing. She does both and neither. Whump ensues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Haha I'm back hoes. I’m a slut for the summer camp aesthetic but it doesn’t make much sense so I guess this is some kind of weird summer camp AU? I don’t know it’s ocs and nobody cares anyway. All my characters are women please talk about them as such am big dyke. Thankies. Oh also TW for any sort of anxiety or panic disorder! Cam has one and if you want the whole ass origin story that isn't omo related at all let me know and I might post it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Everyone is sitting on the floor of the lodge playing ERS, but I’m sitting this round out in the corner of the cabin so as to not make an idiot out of myself. Normally I dominate at card games and that kind of thing, but I’m having trouble thinking straight, much less focusing on shit like speed and strategy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, I’ve let myself get dragged on another road-trip mini vacation moment from hell. It’s not that I hate to travel or anything, it’s just that I would really prefer it if we didn’t go anywhere more than a few hours away or stay anywhere that could be described as a communal living space. I mean, I guess it’s not all bad. Watching Preston and Silver be dumbasses is always fun and my girlfriend Britney’s cute as ever, but it really doesn’t make up for the issue at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t do public restrooms. I know a lot of people say that, but like, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t do public restrooms. I could be angsty and go on a long trauma-based tangent, but quite frankly I don’t have the energy or the mental capacity to do so when I have to piss this bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously it’s irrational, at least to some degree. We’re the only ones here and I know none of them are going to hurt me, but there’s still something forcefully holding me back and telling me if I even step foot into the somewhat mildew-y bathroom down the hall I’m not coming back in one piece. Which again, is stupid. Even if I wasn’t on the verge of pissing myself right now, I’d at least have to shower sooner or later, the thought of which makes me even more nervous than just going in there to pee. I sigh in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?”, Britney asks, “You’re all quiet over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bite my lip and nod shyly, she raises an eyebrow in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She might be slow on the uptake usually, but after that bit of awkwardness there’s no way she hasn’t realized the problem. I shake my head, hoping to signal for her not to get involved. The fact she’s noticed is mortifying enough, I don’t need her making a scene or trying to help me along like some toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to casually shift in place, drumming my fingers on my thigh to distract myself but at this point it’s not happening. No matter how many times I shift or grit my teeth or press my legs together it doesn’t help anymore. I have to do something about it to avoid making this entire situation more unbearably humiliating than it already is. My eyes dart down the hall at the restroom. As much as I want to work up the courage to just get it over with, the thought is enough to make my throat close up and palms sweaty and the extra dash of fear is enough to make my bladder lurch and force me to grab myself or risk leaking and leaving a painfully obvious stain on my light grey cargo shorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m pretty much stuck in limbo. Or maybe hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shoot a glance at the back door that leads into the woods and immediately try to force away the thought. It isn’t a terrible idea in theory, though I’m not sure why pissing in the woods past midnight is less terrifying than a semi public bathroom in my mind, but it’s not like I can just casually stroll out there without raising suspicion anyway. Then again, it’s not like I can just hold it forever either; at least not at this rate where I can feel sweat trickling down my neck and I’m shaking in both anxiety and desperation Any minute now everyone is gonna look over and realize I’m about 3 seconds away from pissing myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it. There’s no point in suffering like this and if anyone tries to question me then it’s their fault they’re gonna get their lights punched out. Then again, beating them up would only raise suspicion. Whatever. If I don’t go through with this now I’ll end up hesitating for the next hour and given my current state that’d be more embarrassing than the awkward excuse:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not feeling well, I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K.” Preston responds, not looking up from her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Score. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think I’ve gotten away with it before I see Britney stand up.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah. I just, uh, need a second.” I stammer as I stand up and it feels like every liquid I’ve ever ingested has just rushed directly to my bladder. I feel a patch of wetness spread in my underwear and panic as I try to stop my knees from buckling inwards, praying to every god in existence it hasn’t soaked through to the back of my shorts. I pull my shirt down a bit and hope that she can’t see how weak my legs have gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow in suspicion, but ultimately sits back down. Bless. I try my best to casually walk outside and onto the back porch even though I have to piss so bad my legs are going numb. Don't ask me how the fuck that works. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s practically killing me to not stop and grab myself and start crying like some kind of freak, but with the porch light on I know they can see me through the window until I’m down the steps and at least a few feet away from them. Even then if I can’t, I’d prefer to go even farther back so I don’t get caught, but as my bladder lurches again and I just barely cut it off from leaking, I realize I’m gonna kinda have to take what I can get and take it right the fuck now because there is no possible way to hide what’ll happen if I don’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have no choice but to give up the “vague nausea” act and book it down the steps. I have my eyes set on a tree that isn’t too far so I can at least duck behind it and not drop trough where someone could come out and immediately see me. However, that plan is thwarted when I realize there isn’t a chance in hell of making it all the way over there. Each step down the stairs is a direct hit and I can feel with once rare and quick dribbles turning into rapid-fire leaks that I’m having serious trouble controlling, but it’s not until I can feel it dribbling down my leg that I know my shorts are definitely wet and it’s a serious blow to my focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mind starts racing as to how the hell I’m gonna get back inside when it’s obvious what’s all over my shorts. I’m so caught up in my panic that I don’t notice the rock that’s jetting out of the dirt and stumble over it, which fully destroys the little control I have left. I realize what’s happening and try to somehow catch myself and gain my control back but I only succeed at one of the two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” I hiss as I stumble forward before doubling over. I don’t even fully realize I’m pissing until I try to take another step forward and my leg refuses to move, making me realize I’m absolutely soaking my shorts and there’s nothing I can do about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.” I whimper, trying to steady myself with my hands on my buckling knees as I accept my fate and stop fighting both the desperation and tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit, damnit, damnit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My legs shake and my shoulders relax as a day's worth of piss soaks into  my shorts and into the patchy grass below. I can’t stop it if I tried, and god knows I’m still trying but it’s impossible. The front of my light grey shorts is already about 20 shades darker and plastered to my thighs and yet I’m still going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.” I wince and sniff back my tears as the pattering on the grass finally stops. Small rivulets of liquid are still dribbling down my legs as they drip from my shorts, but I think I’m for the most part finished. I mean, my entire lower body is aching so I can’t be 100% sure. It still sort of feels like I have to go, but giving how much I just pissed I don’t think that’s physically possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, I’m dead. I’m dead no matter what at this point. Like it’s not like I can waltz myself back in and get cleaned up like this. Now I actually feel sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cam..?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>In pure instinct to not humiliate myself even further I dive down onto my knees. I wince as I look back and see Britney, much closer to me than I had thought and there’s no way she got there in the span of .5 seconds it took me to get into this position. Shit, shit, shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stay silent as my face heats up immensely and my mind tries to decide how to react. I’m humiliated and upset, but it’s a toss up between A: knocking her lights out or B: breaking down and sobbing like a literal child, but considering the former is more problematic than the latter I have no choice but to go with B for now and take out my anger on some unfortunate inanimate object later.  I can’t quite face her yet though so I just softly sob to myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could tell something was up.” she says. Yeah, that doesn’t help. “Cam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I am so sorry, I don’t- I got-”, I stammer, tears full on pouring down my face at this point, “I know my dumb phobia is stupid and should barely even apply here, but I got freaked out, and I panicked and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, it’s alright.” she coos, rubbing my shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it isn’t.”, I sniff, “I can’t- I can’t just go back in there like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crouches down a bit and runs her fingers through my short, messy bright red hair and smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got lucky. There’s a door to the bathroom that leads outside. I’ll lock the main bathroom door too so no one’s gonna see. If they ask about you, I’ll just say you were still carsick from earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sniff again and try to force a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve weirdly thought this through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, I’ve got a brain cell in here somewhere.”, she grins tapping her temple, “Besides, I, um, I kinda realized I needed to think of something once I saw you bolt off the porch. You forget we’ve almost been dating a year, I think I know you by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” I scold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up but I remain where I am.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, I’ll show you the door. You coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, I can’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could so casually go in there we wouldn’t be here right now, would we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cam, honey, there’s nobody here but us. Like, for miles. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think I know that?!”, I snap, “I know it’s stupid, alright?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying it’s stupid, I’m saying like, it’s barely a public bathroom. Just because it’s got stalls doesn’t mean someones gonna pop out of one of them and bash your-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me what happened, I was fucking there, okay?! Again, I know! I know it’s stupid, and yes, you’re saying it is, but I still can’t--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I can even finish I’m being yanked up by my arm and dragged to the otherside of the cabin. Her strength kind of amazes me considering she’s about half a foot shorter than me. I try to pull away but I’m still too weak and exhausted so I settle for using my free hand to pull my shirt down again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brit..” I whimper as we approach the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not letting go of your hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I’m not letting go of your hand. Like you are gonna shower with one arm out the curtain or I’m getting in there with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My face heats up immensely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just kidnap me.” I argue, trying to pull away but her grip remains firm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. And I’m not forcing you to do anything either. Just pushing. I’m gonna hold your hand so you know it’s safe. Anything that could happen to you has to go through me first, okay? I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is bullshit, I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, I’m, like, the guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re both girls last time I checked, Cam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean.” I protest to no avail</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens the door and the artificial light stings my eyes, I take a deep breath and step in with my eyes squeezed shut and my palms sweating an embarrassing amount. When I blink my eyes open again and realize what I’m doing I insitively try to bolt, but Brit has my hand gripped tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. I don’t even want you to try and shower yet, let’s just sit here a sec.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closes the door and leads me further in to over by the sinks and if I hadn’t already done so a few minutes prior I’d be pissing my pants in terror right about now. I’m finding it harder and harder to breathe but I’m also desperately trying to not have a panic attack right about now and that only makes me panic harder. It feels like the walls are closing in and my lungs and brain are about to collapse on themselves and I’m so caught up in fruitlessly trying to control my breathing that I don’t even notice I’m practically strangling poor Britney’s hand until I’m being pulled to the tiled floor by it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My legs are shaking, but I do as I’m told, though instead of facing her I put my back to the wall, my eyes darting around the room at about a million times a minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you bring your bass out here?” she asks, breaking the relative silence aside from my shallow breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s it look like again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve seen it a million times.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know she’s trying to distract me, and I’d honestly welcome it if I could be distracted in my current state, but I don’t think I can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red.” I answer through the lump growing in my throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we just get this over with?!” I whimper, my voice breaking into a million sharp pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs solemnly and leads me to the shower. She turns the water on and gives me a soft kiss on my neck as encouragement. Every part of me is trembling and the mix of fear and embarrassment of stepping out of piss-soaked clothes while practically attached to my girlfriend isn’t helping but I feel disgusting and at this point I see no option other than getting in fully clothed consequences be damned. I’m way to mentally exhausted to face my phobia to such a level, hell, I already feel like I’m gonna pass out as is. Besides if all my clothes are wet at least I don’t have to deal with the humiliation of the giant stain on my shorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I exhale shakily and enter the shower, sitting on the handicap bench in exhaustion. Britney is pulled in behind me and tentatively lets go of my hand to step in front of me and run her fingers through my hair. Guilt pangs in my chest as I realize she’s dressed as well and probably wasn’t trying to end up soaking wet as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I couldn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, it’s okay. I’m proud you made it this far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> My face heats up heats up all over again as I rest my head on her chest and let the hot water pour over both of us.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Day 4: Desperate with a Friend or Lover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dylan finds out about Preston's piss kink and it's thoroughly embarrassing for both of them. Preston POV.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is an edited version of a super old fic tbh. Like 2016. Like I was probably to young to be writing piss porn at that point lol. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless. If you're a sucker for cute girls being dumb with piss or (lighthearted) kinkshaming is your kink,, this one's for you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Dylan Brooks is on my couch. Well, not just on my couch, also on my hips, lips and somewhat in my mouth if you count her tongue that’s weaving its way between my gasping lips. My lips are growing sore so I part them from hers for just a moment to catch my breath. </p><p>“God, you’re something.” I murmur in an amazing sort of shock.</p><p>“Something?” she grins. </p><p>“A dork.” I retort as I climb onto her lap and kiss her again. Her laughter is suppressed by kisses as she backs away. I tilt my head in confusion,. She blushes and shakes her head. </p><p>“N-Nevermind.” she says as she grabs my shoulders and falls atop me. Her sandy blonde hair falling in both of our eyes as I pay no mind to her sudden flinching. </p><p> I fight my way to get back on top, the fabric of my shirt a jumbled mess of twisted fabric cinching my torso. I slowly start to grind against her jean-clad pelvis. A soft gasp escapes her mouth, god she’s cute. I roll over to let her on top and then pull her on my lap. Her long, tanned legs straddle me and wrap around my torso, it’s paradise. That is, until she flinches again. </p><p>“Something wrong? Still not used to this?” I tease.</p><p>“It’s nothing, sorry.” she blushes.</p><p>“It’s gotta be something if you keep pulling away like that. Want me to stop?”</p><p>“No. Really, I’m fine.” she embarrassedly laughs as she gets back on my lap, inhaling ever so slightly and begins to kiss me again. I feel her legs moving oddly behind me, brushing my back rather ungracefully. Is she… twitching? What if she has to…</p><p>
  <em> Nope. No way. Get those thoughts out of your head, Preston. Now’s not the time to make it weird.  Nothing good has ever come from making it weird. </em>
</p><p>My inner monologue  continues to anxiously ramble on as I can no longer resist sitting idly by. I flip her under me and press my pelvis into her lower abdomen, direly wanting to know if my hunch was true and I wasn’t just beginning to fantasize as I often do. Surely enough she whimpers in response. I part my lips from hers and smirk, my shaggy black bangs hanging in my eyes. </p><p>“You sure you’re alright?” I chide as I grope her ass, bringing it the slightest bit off the couch. She nervously laughs. </p><p>“Um, actually…” ,she blushes with an embarrassed laugh, “I’m gonna be honest, I really have to pee…”</p><p>Holy fuck for once it wasn’t just my perverted, fetish-fag imagination. God, I have to say something, what the fuck do I even say? Luckily, Dylan beats me to it as I struggle to keep my cheeks from reddening. </p><p>“Do you mind if I go really quick?” she embarrassedly says as she brushes her hair from her freckled face. I slowly push her back into a laying down position on the sofa with my arms on either side of her, making escaping rather difficult. </p><p>“A little.” I smirk, instantly regretting it. </p><p>
  <em> What the fuck was that? “a little”?! Why would you say that, you actual sack of cringe?! </em>
</p><p>“I mean- not that- I mean” I stutter, making it a million times worse as I  try to figure out how to get away with practically screaming “hey I like to have fun with piss” in my girlfriend's face and make it sound like something completely different.  We both sit up as I blush redder than a maraschino cherry. </p><p>“Preston?” she asks.</p><p>“Yeah?” I wince.</p><p>“What the fuck” </p><p>I try to kiss her again to shut her up but she pulls away.</p><p>“Wait, are you like, into piss?”</p><p>“N-no. Unless you are. But not that I-..” </p><p>“Oh my god, you are.”</p><p>“Am not!” I blush furiously. </p><p>“You <em> really </em> suck at lying.” she says, holding back a smirk. </p><p>“Okay fine!” I admit “But it’s gross and whatever so just forget about it.”</p><p>Silence pierces the air for a few moments. </p><p>“So like, do you want me to piss on you or something?” she asks, genuinely curious. </p><p>That only makes me blush a million times harder. I shake my head trying to clear it and change the subject. </p><p>“So, uh, wanna order take-out and pretend we never had this conversation?” I suggest.</p><p>“Preston-”</p><p>“I’m feeling sweet and sour chicken, you?”</p><p>“Like, I’ll do it if you want.”</p><p>“The chicken?” </p><p>“Do you want me to piss on you or not, bitch.” she sighs. </p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Okay, then I’m gonna go because I’m about to piss myself.”</p><p>Those words are enough to make the embarrassment go right back to arousal. </p><p>“Wait!” I blurt out. </p><p>She turns around and crosses her legs. Goddamnit there’s no going back now, my hormones are in maximum overdrive. </p><p>“Could you… keep holding it.” I stammer. </p><p>Her eyes widen in confusion for a moment before she nervously laughs. </p><p>“I, uh, not for much longer no”</p><p>Holy fucking shit. </p><p>Dylan rolls her eyes as I now stare blankly at the wall pretending that I had no idea what she was implying. It’s not that I didn’t want it, because I did like hell and had spent countless nights picturing that very scenario in Wet Dream Wonderland, but the thought of Dylan doing something like that in real life was just kind of…. Awkward. So hot, but so awkward Speaking of awkward, the silence is borderline deafening, if you pardon the hyperbole. My girlfriend bounces her right leg and looks up at me. </p><p>“Just like, ten more minutes.”</p><p>I bite my lip and glance down at her quivering leg. Fuck, who cursed me with this goddamn kink anyway. I sigh and stare at my sock-clad feet to avoid eye contact. She glanced around nervously before exhaling in defeat. </p><p>“Alright, fine.”</p><p>“You can’t tell <em> anyone </em>about this.” I say sternly. Dylan sighs.</p><p>“Whatever, ten more minutes and that’s it.”</p><p>“Swear you won’t tell!”</p><p>“Yeah, sure, I won’t tell anyone about your piss kink.:</p><p>“I don’t have a piss kink!”</p><p>“Blatant lies, can we get this over with?”</p><p>I guide her back into a laying down position on the couch by gently pinning her down until her head is  on the arm rest. Her stormy eyes look the slightest bit afraid and her cheeks are pink with embarrassment as her legs continue to twitch. She’s right where I want her. She's amazing. </p><p>I blush, “You’re sure about this?”</p><p>“I don’t really know what <em> this </em>is.”</p><p>“You can back out whenever, okay?”</p><p>“Dude, I gotta pee.”</p><p>“Yeah I know, that’s kind of the point.”</p><p>“What about this even appeals to you in the first place.”</p><p>“Are you gonna kinkshame me or kiss me?”</p><p>“That's the worst thing you've ever said.” she complains with a whimper and squirm. </p><p>“Shh… It’s okay.” I assure her as I grind against her lower abdomen and kiss her passionately. </p><p>She rolls her eyes suppresses a whimper as I let my hands brush against her outer and inner thighs. I grind a little harder than usual, craving a reaction.</p><p>“A-agh! Watch it!”</p><p> Guilt tries to eat away at me, I should be going much easier on her than this, but this might be my only chance to ever do this. </p><p>“Ngh, Preston!” she whispers, her breath shallow as fuck. </p><p>I can’t keep doing this, it’s too much for the both of us, though in completely different ways. My ploys are working to weaken her control and she jams a hand between her thighs, her legs now tightly crossed and shaking.</p><p>“Can’t hold it?” I breathe with a smirk. She softly laughs a whispery laugh.</p><p>“The… The nerves don’t help.”</p><p>I let myself fall on top of her again, my hands touching her forearms. </p><p>“You're such a bitch.” she softly moans. </p><p>I suddenly snatch her hands from between her legs and pin them by her side. She squeaks in surprise. </p><p>“P-Preston.”</p><p>“Please don’t break up with me.” I murmur as I continue to kiss her, my pelvis pressing practically squarely on her bladder. Both of her legs rapidly bounce in response as she struggles to free her hands.</p><p>“Preston!”</p><p>“Sorry.” I blush between kisses.</p><p>“Give me a break, please!” she whines.</p><p>“What kind?” I say, with a touch of smugness in my voice as I slowly stop the grinding. </p><p>“I have to piss!.” she begs as she gets out from underneath me and doubles over. She’s gonna be done for any minute now if she keeps going at this rate.</p><p>“Is this too much for you? I feel kinda like I’m… y’know, violating you.” </p><p>“A-As much as I hate this, that s-smirk on your face m-makes it sort of w-worth it.” ,she stutters, rocking back and forth her her hands firmly placed between her thighs, “Is this what you get off on?.”</p><p> I pull her atop me and start to french her again, my lips feel like they’re gonna fall off from all this making out, but neither one of us has swiped the v-card yet and now would be a weird time to do so. I sit on her legs to calm their trembling as I kiss her neck and keep her hands firmly pressed by her sides. I feel her legs fighting to move from under me, but I don’t cave in. </p><p>“F-fuck!” she says, desperately gripping the edge of the couch.</p><p>“Just a little longer.” I encourage. </p><p>I’m definitely gonna let up soon. No way can I have her wet. This is more than enough fetish fuel for a session with me and my hand once she leaves. The thought causes me to suppress a moan as she struggles underneath me. </p><p>Then seemingly all at once I feel a spurt of wetness soak into the leg of my jeans that I have propped between her legs and she leaps up from the couch so fast that if you even blinked you would’ve missed it.</p><p>“I- I’m sorry, I can’t hold it! Let me go!” she whimpers. Holy shit, it’s like she’s been rehearsing this pitch perfect dialogue for weeks preparing for this moment. The shallowness of her breath and whimpering of her voice are making me weak and on top of that she totally leaked. I just want a little longer. It’s greedy but at this rate I’m so turned on I’m gonna cum just by rubbing against my jeans as I kiss her. I try to respond with some sort of sly comment but I can barely speak. She struggles to free herself from my grasp.</p><p>“Two more minutes.” I whisper. I feel her hands clench into fists as her weight shifting slows down in pace, hindered by the anxious trembling of her legs. </p><p>“Prest, I-I really can’t. Oh shit!” A small patch starts to form on the crotch of her jeans, but abruptly stops with a short gasp. It’s more than just a little leak and I know two minutes just isn’t gonna happen, causing me to come back to earth and panic. My hand immediately lets go of her wrist in disbelief. </p><p>“Dude! Go! What are you doing?!” I panic. </p><p>She whimpers and tries to make a run for it only to stop in her tracks after just a few steps. Piss pours down her shaking legs and spreads across the back of her jeans, dribbling into a lopsided puddle on the hardwood. </p><p>“Shit.” I softly gasp in disbelief.  </p><p>The sound of piss pooling on wood slows to a faint drip. Dylan slowly turns around to face me, her face paper than a ghost. </p><p>“I’m so sorry!”, I panic, “If I had known it was that bad I wouldn’t have-“</p><p>“I told you!” she whimpers. </p><p>“I’m sorry! I thought you were exaggerating!” </p><p>“Does this look like an exaggeration?!”</p><p>Her whimpers turn to tears of embarrassment causing guilt to pang harder in my chest. I approach her and rub her back. </p><p>“Hey. It’s okay.” I say softly, pulling out a kitchen chair for her. Her legs are still shaking like crazy. I try to guide her over to it but she pulls away. </p><p>“Dyl, I’m sorry, alright? It’s okay. Sit down before you make yourself sick.”</p><p>“I’ll get the chair wet.” she mumbles. </p><p>I roll my eyes. </p><p>“Dude, whatever I’ll clean it just sit.”</p><p>She obliges and takes a few deep breaths to compose herself. She looks down at the mess on the floor and nervously giggles. </p><p>“S-sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize for pissing all over your floor??”</p><p>“I didn’t mean for it to happen but uh, ding ding ding that’s my fetish so I should be apologizing to you.”</p><p>She raises an eyebrow. </p><p>“You’re into people peeing on your floor?”</p><p>I blush furiously and can barely muster pointing at her lap in an attempt to clarify. She looks down, blushes, and looks back up. </p><p>“My- my pants?” </p><p>That only makes me blush a million times harder, to the point where I turn away in embarrassment. </p><p>“No fucking way.” she giggles. </p><p>“It’s not funny!” I scold. </p><p>Which is a lie. It's objectively kind of hilarious. </p><p>“<em> Christ. </em>” she snickers under her breath.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>She smirks as she stands up and walks towards the bathroom. </p><p>“Hey, if you like it so much, you can clean it up.” she teases. </p><p>“Go shower, I’m taking you out to dinner.” I say as I awkwardly step into the kitchen to find cleaning supplies. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day 5: Wetting in a Sexy Outfit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Preston and Dylan are at it again only this time the author has thrown all composure out the window because Dylan domming Preston is my lifesource ok.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had no idea what to do for this prompt. Mainly because my ideal "sexy wetting" outfit is like,, jeans and a shirt lmfao. So uh, y'all wanted sexy so I gave you whatever in the fuck this is. Uh,, contains light bondage and bdsm elements? I don't know man it's 3 am. Also hi yes next fic is finally not about Preston and Dylan. Not that they are going anywhere but I wanna spread out with some of my other ocs lol. Also contains the f slur?? is that a thing people care about. I'm a lesbian. being called it is hot for some reason. i don't know. it's piss who cares?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dylan whispers as she straddles my hips atop my bed, her lips brushing away from mine. Her breath in my ear feels warm and it makes my heart skip a beat. I want her so bad right now. </p><p>“I’m so turned on it hurts.” I breathe</p><p>She smirks and stifles a giggle. Fuck that smirk, it’s only making me want her more. Jesus, I must sound beyond desperate and not the good kind. My face is heating up with embarrassment, god she knows how much she turns me on when she smirks like that. The feeling of my cheeks pinkening doesn’t help the overwhelming feeling of lust.</p><p>“I’d fuck you, but it’d be over too fast and then I’d be bored.” she teases as she runs her slender fingers up my stomach.</p><p> She has to know exactly what she’s doing, no one can accidentally be this much of a tease, right? </p><p>“I'll do whatever you want.” I murmur persuasively. </p><p>It wasn’t truly a lie, I was practically craving more of her smirk. I had my own plans, though. There was a faint pain growing noticeably more prominent just above the waistband of my jeans and it was part of the reason I was being reduced to a horny lust-struck idiot. I let my leg squirm and readjust itself for a moment as if to influence her choice. She grins and shakes her head as she notices. Who cursed me with a piss kink anyway? </p><p>“I think I'll be nice to you tonight, it sounds like you want to have some fun, don’t you?”</p><p>“Depends on what fun is.”</p><p>“Drink some water and you’ll start to clue in. And you better finish that in five minutes or less before I change my mind.”  she chides.</p><p>Hell yeah. I do as I’m told, but it’s torturous. Drinking that fast means it’s gonna all hit me at once and given that my bladder was already considerably full meant that I don't stand a chance against whatever Dylan had in store for me. It’s perfect. </p><p>“I thought your cups were bigger, another one.” she promptly decides. </p><p>“Dylan!” I protest, the cup I just drank was certainly ‘big enough’ and hadn’t even hit me yet but I was already having a little trouble standing still. </p><p>She responds by glaring at me with a menacing look she only gives me at times like these. It was odd how such a sweet-seeming girl could be so ruthless when she wanted to be. I inhale sharply and do as I’m told. My mouth and throat tell me to reject the metallic and bitter taste of the tap water as I feel my stomach become sloshy and bloated. </p><p>“You are so donating your kidneys to me  if I need them because of this.”  I groan, beginning to feel a bit nauseous. </p><p>“Shh...Good girl…” she says softly as she wraps her arms around my waist from behind, her fists pressing into my bladder. That shuts me up.  I wince and double over in shock. I feel Dylan’s breath coming into my ear again. </p><p>“This is what you wanted. Isn't it?”</p><p>It’s like she becomes an entirely different person during this, it’s borderline eerie but my breathing is shallow with arousal and desperation nonetheless. My legs buckle and quiver, but she refuses to move her hands. I struggle to get free, but she tightens her grip and slips her fingertips into the waistband of my jeans. </p><p>“It’s an urge, not a need.” she says, getting me off as I whimper, my voice shaky with panic. </p><p>She suddenly takes me by my wrist. She leads me back to my bedroom and lays me down on my bed. Dylan straddles me and sits down on my abdomen as she kisses me. Her tongue darting between my lips as my fingers grab onto her soft beachy waves, clenching into fists in agony. The water is starting to hit and she has no intention of showing me any mercy. It’s one of the most frighteningly erotic things I’ve ever experienced. </p><p>“Ngh! Dylan!” I gasp as my legs fight to quiver under her weight. </p><p>“Shh… It’s cute how you pretend you don't fucking love this.” she says, grinding against my pelvis. I stifle a moan, I’ve done this exact move on her. My hand creeps between my legs as the pressure rapidly increases. It’s hitting me. Holy fuck, it’s hitting me hard. </p><p>“I have to piss <em> so </em> bad right now.” I moan as her lips part from mine for just a moment.</p><p>“Already? You really think I’m going to give in that quickly? Tell me how badly you have to go and I might consider.” she says softly, as if she was becoming aware of how insane we both sound.</p><p>“Aagh, bad.” I stammer, embarrassed out of my mind. </p><p>“Ah, descriptive.”</p><p> My legs tremble wildly underneath her, I’m absolutely drenched in sweat.</p><p>“Uh, Dylan?”, I blush. </p><p>“What, fag?”</p><p>“C-Can we take this to the floor or something? I-I don’t wanna..”</p><p>“Don’t wanna what?” she sneers, pushing me further into the mattress causing me to kick under her again. </p><p>“I-I don’t wanna wet the bed.” l blush. </p><p>“You really have to go that bad, huh?” She slowly slides off my pelvis, but the pain remains. I immediately sit up and double over with my hands between my legs as she rummages around in my closet for something.</p><p>“The hell are you doing?” I ask as I get up and start to pace the room. </p><p>“I didn't say that you could get up yet.” she responds, ignoring my question entirely. </p><p>She turns around to face me with two of my skull-printed scarfs tied tightly together held taught in her hands. My eyes widen as she grabs my wrist yet again and leads me back into the living room and pins me up against a pillar. The surprise and sudden pressure makes me leak and I instinctively hold myself with my free hand. Her lips fiercely brush against mine as her body pins me down and she forces both my hands above my head. </p><p>“I don’t like it when you grab yourself like that. You know I’m the only one allowed to touch you there.”</p><p>“I can’t do this.” I pant, squeezing my legs together even tighter as she grabs at my wrist and uses the scarves to tightly tie them to the pillar above my head. My hands struggle to free themselves, wanting to grab myself in a desperate attempt to not piss, but they remain tied above my head. </p><p>“You said whatever I wanted.” Dylan smirks as she unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my legs which bounce and thrash wildly, as my hands have been taken out of the equation. </p><p>I can’t believe she’s about to actually do this. Not only is it risky as fuck for her, it’s absolutely humiliating for me. I’m not used to feeling this… Vulnerable. It isn't bad. Okay, it's the worst, but for some weird reason I can't help but love it. </p><p>“Real talk though, don't you dare.” she says sternly, sounding herself this time as she crouches down to her knees. </p><p>I nervously huff and nod rather uncertainly at her demands. I flinch and clench the bits of scarf that I can feel in my fists as her tongue sweeps across my vag. </p><p>“Fuck.” I wince. It's an exclamation in both panic and overwhelming lust. </p><p>I'm almost obligated to keep still. I have no way to move with my hands tied up and Dylan between my legs. It's pure torture, but at the same time obviously I don't want it to end and it feels like all the blood is rushing to my head. </p><p>“Fuck.” I pant, my fists clenched as tight as they can clench as I can't resist fidgeting my legs anymore. I can’t piss like this. I will literally drop-kick her out of the way before I do. </p><p>She must sense that my control is weakening in both senses. Her tongue is swapped for her fingers which graze up and draw circles around the inner walls of my heat. </p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>“What is that? Your word of the day?”</p><p>I can't even talk back, not like this. I'm gonna come any second. The tremor that runs through my body is so strong that it even overpowers my desperation. </p><p>My muscles begin to contract and throb  as I climax which makes my desperation even worse than it already is. I bite my lip so hard it might burst as I moan in pain and lust through my clenched teeth. I hear Dylan softly giggle as my eyes are shut. </p><p>“God, you're cute. Poor baby.” she teases, pulling up my grey panties. “Mmgh, Dylan!”, I whine as she snaps the thick elastic waistband over my bulging bladder, “I can’t hold it any longer!”</p><p>“Poor thing, you must have to go, they’re already a little wet from earlier.” she chides, running her finger the wet spot between.</p><p>She gives me another smirk and disappears for a moment before turning on the kitchen sink. The sound of rushing water immediately causes me to leak again, though it’s much more this time and I can feel it running down my inner thigh and dripping onto my bunched up jeans at my ankles and the floor. I cross my legs and writhe as I yelp desperately, leaking yet again. I would kill to be able to use my hands, but they stay firmly tied above my head, my arms growing incredibly sore. </p><p>“Hold it.” Dylan commands. </p><p>“<em> I can’t </em>” I whimper. </p><p>The warm, wet feeling that stays on my crotch from leaking is tempting me and I am using just about all my strength to not give in to it. </p><p>“Don’t be an idiot, you’re way too old to wet yourself, Preston. Hold it.” </p><p>“But I <em> can’t </em>!” I protest as my rather tired legs tremble, becoming incredibly weak. </p><p>I leak again, a larger amount than before. It begins to seep through the front of my jeans and dribble onto the hardwood. I hyperventilate as I panic, I can’t last much longer at all. I can feel it. </p><p>“Yes, you can! If you don't you're gonna have to bring your jeans down to the laundry room and everyone is gonna see that you couldn't hold it and instead of waiting like an adult you decided to just go in your panties instead, aren't they? So unless you wanna humiliate yourself you better fucking hold it!” she insists firmly, turning up the water pressure on the sink. It’s too much, it’s way too much.</p><p>“I-I really, really can’t! Aah! Oh- oh no!” I say, choking on my tears. There’s no going back, the floodgates have burst open. </p><p>I try to stop, but I can’t. I gasp and whimper as piss starts to uncontrollably pour down my legs and my jeans become absolutely drenched. The immense feeling of relief is overwhelming. Nothing else seems to matter at that moment. I feel the fabric of the scarf being pulled off of my wrists and my arms promptly fall back to my sides, brushing up against my shaking legs</p><p>“I thought I told you to hold it.”</p><p>I gaze up to her with my hands on my knees as I catch my breath and chuckle softly in embarrassment, I still can't stop.</p><p>“Oh you think this is funny? This is funny to you?” she scolds. </p><p>The stream finally slows to a stop and having come down from my so to speak ‘high’ I can’t help but laugh at the rather out-of-character roughness in her voice. </p><p>“Yeah, kinda.” I admit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Day 6: Too Busy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Annoying theatre kid drinks too much ThoatCoat before a show.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imagine not updating for 3 months,,,, I’m so sorry lmfao. It didn’t feel that long!!! I’m trying to make up for it, I swear! I just moved into college so I’ve been super busy but hopefully I’ll be able to write more soon<br/>I know that u have a few Preston fans already on tumblr and this is a short break from that, but I mean,, piss is piss.</p><p>Also I’m on mobile so I’m sorry if the formatting is janky!! Shoot me an ask on tumblr @twinkleomorashi and I’ll fix it if it is!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’ve basically been guaranteed the leading role since I was a sophomore, so it’s no surprise that I scored the role of Roxie in the school production of Chicago my senior year. It’s not even a matter of bragging or narcissism… At least not really. Nobody in this shithole school has half the training and talent that I do. At this point if I don’t get the lead, the directors are wrong. I guess it is a little narcissistic when it’s put like that, but it’s not my fault. I mean, I’m not a bitch, I’m right.</p><p><br/>
Chicago’s always been a favorite musical of mine. Glitz, glam, sex, and murder; what more could you ask for in any medium? Scoring the role of Roxie was like a dream come true, even if it was just for a shitty school production. The role is huge and the costumes are to die for. Sparkly and show-offy with that vintage edge- I’m in love.</p><p><br/>
I’m sad to see it come to an end. Tonight’s the last show and I have to, well more so everyone else absolutely has to, kill it. If so much as the delivery of a small line from a minor character is the slightest bit off I’m going to have a fit. I’ve worked far too hard on this for it to end in embarrassment.</p><p><br/>
“5 minutes to places!” the stage manager calls.</p><p><br/>
“Thank you five.” we chorus.</p><p><br/>
I sigh to calm the butterflies in my stomach as I go back to my dressing area and nervously take another sip from my almost empty thermos of ThroatCoat tea that I’d been chugging for the past hour and chase the slightly medicinal taste with a swig from my water bottle. My lipstick stains the bottle and is smudged just below my lower lip. Damnit. I reapply and wipe any smudges off with a make up wipe.</p><p><br/>
Suddenly, I feel an odd tingling from my lower abdomen. I always forget something, don’t I? I can’t go now, there’s audience members in the lobby and house and I’m in full costume. I’ll just have to wait I guess. It’s not like it’s to the point where it’ll hinder my performance anyway.</p><p><br/>
“Places!” he calls.<br/>
<br/>
We all scamper into the wings, the wonderful feeling of nerves and excitement throbbing in our hearts. The opening jazz blares and Ava, the girl playing Velma, enters and begins to sing. I usually love this fluttery feeling, but the nerves aren’t the best feeling when accompanied by my sudden little issue. Which it hardly is, I want to point out. I’m just being a little paranoid is all.</p><p><br/>
I enter as Roxie, stumbling and drunkenly fawning over Fred Kasley at a bar as Velma sings All That Jazz. I notice my girlfriend, Cris, staring at me from the house. She has an odd expression of unamusemnet and jealousy on her face. Christ, she does know that this is acting right? Either way, her possessiveness is kind of endearing.</p><p><br/>
Roxie and Fred eventually make it to her house and get atop the bed together, Roxie below Fred. This sort of blocking is always a bit awkward, but I stay in character through the embarrassment, giggling drunkenly. The guy playing Fred is getting a little too into it and accidentally presses his hand directly on my lower stomach as he tries to make his performance convincing.</p><p> </p><p>My leg twitches and my teeth clench with panic in response, desperate not to make a sound that my mic will pick up.<br/>
Finally, the time comes for me get him off of me to shoot him. Ironically enough, my next line is; “Oh my god…. I have to pee!”. Like hell.</p><p><br/>
The rest of act one seems to be going as usual, only a small line fumble from Matron Mama Morton, but with a rather smooth recovery. The only thing that isn’t going as planned is coming from my end for once. I would never once let it show on stage, but I’m seriously about to explode.</p><p><br/>
Im mentally cursing myself for worrying so much about my voice and chugging the tea without thinking of where it would all end up. During the rare moments where I’m not on stage, I’ve taken to hiding in the corner of the dressing room behind a rack of dress pants where I can grab at myself and squirm in privacy. There’s a strict no bathroom breaks during the show rule and it’s there for good reason, suspension of disbelief and picking up cues, but I’m really really wishing that that didn’t matter. Not that I would have time anyhow.</p><p>Intermission falls upon us, and I decide to work up the nerve to at least ask if I could use the restroom. The very last thing I would want to do is- I don’t even want to have the possibility of jinxing it by saying it.</p><p><br/>
“Excuse me, Mr. Shapiro?” I quietly ask.</p><p>“Oh my god, Persephone! There you are, thank god. Could you help Katherine with her wig, she undid one of her pin curls and it got screwed up. Freshman…” he groans.</p><p><br/>
“Of course.” I nod, losing all the courage I’d worked up.</p><p><br/>
Damnit Persephone, now if this crashes and burns you only have yourself to blame. I redo Katherine's curl and bobby pin it into place as she hands me her wig cap.</p><p><br/>
“Thanks, Persephone, I owe you one. You okay? You seem stressed, you’re all fidgety.” she notices.</p><p><br/>
Oh my god that’s so embarrassing, I have to be a little more discrete.</p><p><br/>
“Fine, just a little wired from performing and stuff.” I lie.</p><p><br/>
I change into my costume for the next scenes, it’s rather plain and conservative. It’s by far my least favorite outfit I get to wear in the show, unfortunately. I eagerly eye my glitzy showgirl outfit for my last scene, wondering what Cris will think of it.</p><p><br/>
“Places!” Mr. S calls.</p><p><br/>
Shit. I inhale sharply and regain composure. My legs are fighting to quiver beneath me, but I command them to stay still at least while I’m on stage. This has gone from bad to worse in just an act. It’s getting harder and harder not to let it show. I don’t think I’ve ever had to pee this badly in my entire life.</p><p><br/>
In a brief moment of offstageness I grab myself and mentally pray, despite not being religious at all, that I don’t do the unthinkable and have an accident on stage. It’s starting to get to that point. I’m not entirely sure if I can make through the rest of the show as well as getting undressed and cleaning the dressing room. The thought of doing something so humiliating is enough to bring tears to my eyes. <br/>
<br/>
The time comes for my costume change and Katherine is by my station to help me change into such a complicated outfit in the time allotted. I step into the leotard portion of the showgirls outfit, my face turning pale and clammy as I’m forced to spread my legs to step in. <br/>
<br/>
“You sure you’re okay?” she mouths. </p><p>I’m mic’d so I can’t really respond, but at this point I’m started to panic a little so I shake my head no.  <br/>
She raises an eyebrow in concern. I don’t know how to communicate to her that my bladder is about to explode. I glance around nervously, swallow my pride for perhaps the first time in my life, and shoot her a pitiful look as I give in and hold myself again. <br/>
<br/>
Katherine snickers so I glare at her. She sighs and shakes her head playfully as she laces up the back of the outfit, giving me a thumbs up. I want to tell her it’s not funny and more an emergency of immense proportions that could lead to the death of my musical theatre career, but in all honesty I’d be laughing if I was her too. <br/>
<br/>
I’m forced to run into the wings for the number. I don’t know how I’m managing to hide it so well, especially while dancing. I mean, I’m still practically in agony, but letting it show was almost as bad as just giving up and lord knows I’m not about to do that. <br/>
<br/>
Finally, the show ends and the lights go out and come back up as we all get to run into the audience to greet those who came out to support us. I used to think that that was rather unprofessional, but as of now I’m just glad that it gives me an opportunity to escape. I can’t last through post show dressing room stuff like this. I’m this close to getting away with leaving when Cris, Dylan, and Preston run up to me. <br/>
<br/>
“You were wonderful, Persephone! Marvelous!” Cris gushes. <br/>
<br/>
I blush for a multitude of reasons as I give in to the urge to squirm a bit. <br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.” I say, my voice a bit shaky. <br/>
<br/>
I notice Preston begin to study me, seemingly in deep thought as her eyebrow is raised just enough to show a hint of curiosity. Sweat begins to line my forehead, I have to find an excuse to ditch them, I don’t think I can wait much longer and Preston staring at me isn’t helping. <br/>
<br/>
“Hey Persephone, can I ask you a question about.. the set?” she asks.</p><p><br/>
“Uh, sure.” I reply. <br/>
<br/>
Goddamnit, why am I like this? Preston takes my hand and leads me onstage. <br/>
<br/>
“What’s your question?” <br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I don’t have one. You just seemed like you... maybe needed a break.” she blushes. <br/>
<br/>
I guess I really wasn’t as discrete as I thought.<br/>
“You couldn’t tell on stage, could you?!” I panic. <br/>
<br/>
“What? No.” <br/>
<br/>
Oh thank god. <br/>
<br/>
“Go ahead, man.”, she says, “I don’t see what you’re waiting for. I mean, your hands are between your legs and everything.” <br/>
<br/>
I didn’t even realize I was doing that. I yank them away and instantly feel my underwear grow horrifyingly wet and warm. I jam my hand between my thighs again in a panic, thankfully stopping it.</p><p> Preston notices the horrified expression on my face. <br/>
<br/>
“P-Preston!” I whimper. <br/>
<br/>
Fuck, I’m going to wet myself. It hasn’t happened yet, but I can feel it despite not having felt it since I was a kid. There’s no way I’m gonna make it at this rate. My legs are quivering spastically beneath me, trembling like they’ve turned to jelly. Her eyes widen. <br/>
<br/>
“Dude, run! Go!” she instructs. <br/>
<br/>
I follow her orders without hesitation and bolt out the stage door. Running is making it worse, but I won’t make it if I don’t run. I think I’m screwed either way.<br/>
 <br/>
I turn the corner and see that there’s a line out the door for the main bathrooms. Another leak escapes, showing up as a faint stain on my neutral colored tights. <br/>
<br/>
“Shit!” I hiss in a panic. <br/>
<br/>
I turn around and run for the freshman bathrooms, which are absolutely grimy and disgusting, though at this point I don’t care. <br/>
<br/>
I stumble in dizzily; teeth clenched, legs shaking, and barely able to choke out quick sharp breaths. <br/>
<br/>
“Fuck!” I whine, stepping from foot to foot as I spot a stall and furiously unlace my corset and try to make my way to it. Pain shoots through my entire body each time my heel strikes the ground. <br/>
<br/>
Come on, come on! Almost there, Seph.</p><p><br/>
I feel the laces on my corset finally loosen, relieving the most minuscule about of pressure possible from my distended bladder as I shakily shove open the stall door. At the mere sight of the toilet my body is entirely overtaken in pain and desperation. <br/>
<br/>
“Fuck, no, no, no!!” I whimper, furiously trying to get my arms out of the leotard but it’s no use. <br/>
<br/>
My panic is cut off by a sharp moan as piss soaks through the crotch of my showgirl’s outfit and runs down the legs of my tights creating a very noticeable wet spot that trickles down to my feet and splatters on the linoleum floor.<br/>
I refuse to give in though. No way am I ruining this stupid costume and my pride as a literal adult. <br/>
<br/>
Come on, come on. <br/>
<br/>
I glance around the empty bathroom. I don’t have time to lock the door or I’ll pee. Fuck, the material that the sleeves are made of is so fucking stiff, but I’ve gotta get out of it. I pull my arm out with all the force I can muster and it finally comes out. <br/>
<br/>
“Seph? You okay?” a familiar voice calls. <br/>
<br/>
Shit.  <br/>
<br/>
My control over my body is almost entirely gone. I can’t look up from my costume though. I have to get out. at this point I don’t care what happens as long as the costume is okay.</p><p><br/>
But no matter how hard I try, little leaks are soaking through the leotard and tights and splattering on the tile as I try to force out my other arm. <br/>
<br/>
Suddenly I hear the fabric rip and my heart sinks, the panic over which takes up too much of my concentration as my aching bladder finally gives out. <br/>
<br/>
“Shitshishit no!” <br/>
<br/>
Piss is pouring down my legs and there’s no way to fight it anymore. My shoulders relax and I let out a shaky groan of relief. I debate stumbling over to the toilet so I don’t get it all over the floor but even if I try my body is refusing to move until it gets the relief it’s been begging me for for the past two hours. I can feel my body heating up as a strange feeling of utter bliss overtakes it as my bladder finally begins to completely relax and empty. <br/>
<br/>
This bliss is, however, short lived as it’s replaced by a burning humiliation that’s  starting to set in as I start to cry in embarrassment and shock. The unstoppable stream finally tapering off into faint dribbles that steadily drip from the soaking fabric onto the floor. <br/>
<br/>
“You okay?.” a voice says from behind me. <br/>
<br/>
I turn around to see Preston entering the restroom and I immediately look away from her. I really hope she hasn’t been standing there for long. I'm so embarrassed I feel like I'm going to vomit. I don’t say anything, knowing if I do the words are gonna come out all choked are garbled. <br/>
<br/>
“Oh.” <br/>
<br/>
All I can do is offer a pathetic sniffle as a response as I wait for the ground to swallow me. <br/>
<br/>
“Hey, it’s not that big of a deal. You alright? You looked like you were about to pass out back there.”</p><p><br/>
“I- Mr. Shapiro is gonna kill me!” I gasp as I’m thrusted back into reality and realize the costume is totally wrecked in more ways than one. <br/>
<br/>
“Hey, hey; it’s okay, calm down. It’s gonna be okay. I’m sure he’ll understand. It’s not like you did it on purpose. It happens to everyone at some point..” </p><p><br/>
“Yeah, when they’re two not eighteen.” I sniffle, stumbling over to the the sink and watching my mascara-laced tears roll down the drain. <br/>
<br/>
She takes a backpack off her back, more specifically my backpack that was in the dressing room. <br/>
<br/>
“I think you’d be surprised.”, she says with this tiny smirk on her face, “I…Thought you might need this.” <br/>
<br/>
I take my bag from her hands and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.</p><p><br/>
“Th-Thanks.”</p><p><br/>
“No problem.”</p><p><br/>
“Hey Preston? Could you do me a favor and not tell the others about this?”</p><p><br/>
She puts her finger to her lips and smiles. <br/>
<br/>
“I guess I won’t blackmail you until you give me a reason.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Day 7: Unable to Locate a Bathroom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cam and Britney are on a road trip and stuck driving through endless miles of middle of nowheres. That wouldn’t be a problem if Cam wasn’t nursing a very full bladder. But what’s the point? Even if they make it to a town it’s not like her past trauma will let her use a public bathroom, right?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yay more exploiting mental illness for piss. I can say and do that considering I am now on the highest dose of anti depressants they are willing to give me lmfao.</p><p>Fair trigger warnings TW for panic attacks, anxiety, PTSD, and implied self harm. You know, all those things we hold near and dear to our hearts? Just mine?  </p><p>Please remember all my characters are 18+ and WOMEN!!!!! Giving half ur characters androgynous names by coincidence is exhausting</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I really don’t know how I thought this was gonna work. I mean, let’s face it, I knew it wasn’t gonna work all along and I was just hoping that by some miracle it would. It’s not like I could turn Britney’s offer down, I was honored that she wanted to take me up to meet her family for thanksgiving, but Jesus fuck, did they really have to live all the way in Arizona?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’ve been taking turns driving my van and while I usually wouldn’t trust her with driving it, I’m beyond grateful I let her. There is no way I could concentrate on driving right now. We’re 9 hours in and I have to piss so bad I swear my back teeth are floating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that I would ever tell Britney this, of course. It’s embarrassing enough that she would know I have to go as is, but couple it with the fact that I'm not entirely sure what to do about it due to my idiotic trauma-based aversion to public restrooms and I’m in my personal hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we there yet?” I groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles and shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, 5? We aren’t even out of Texas yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I really don’t know what to do at this point. No way I can hold it through 2 entire more states. I cross my legs as tight as I can and clench my teeth as I let my eyes wander out the window. Nothing but dry, dying grass and anti-abortion bill boards as far as the eye can see. Great.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We hit a pothole causing the car and my bladder to jostle violently. I clench my teeth again to keep from helplessly yelping, but it’s reminding me I can’t keep holding it for much longer and I’m gonna have to do something about it before it gets to that point. ‘</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re about half way there, so another 9 hours. Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-No.” I sheepishly admit, my face flushing red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow in confusion before the realization sets in and she looks at me with big wide blue eyes full of panic. I guess this hadn’t even crossed her mind earlier, though I’m kind of grateful it didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Cam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize, but like, what do you want me to do about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glance out the car window and entertain the thought of  just asking her to pull over to the side of the road, but there’s several problems with that. Despite being in the middle of ass-fuck no where there’s a pretty good amount of the car on the road and absolutely no cover. Not to mention Britney would </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And knowing she could see would make me entirely lock up and we’d be back to square one. As if she can read my mind she turns to me and says:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just-.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The embarrassment gets the best of me and I bite my tongue to hold back admitting how badly I have to go again. I have to pee so bad it’s insane.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Just give me a little bit okay? Once we’re in the next town I’ll try to figure something out.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>I open my lips to say something but embarrassment gets the best of me and I stay quiet as I stick my hands in my hoodie pocket and try to hold myself beneath it praying I can just make it long enough to where I’m at least pissing somewhere other than my pants. A small groan of pain escapes my mouth as I repeat the words “hold it hold it hold it” on loop in my head. My thoughts are interrupted by a squeal from Britney.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Cam! Billboard! McDonalds! Next exit!” she cheers.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ah,uh, g-great? But Brit, I really don’t know if I can do that. I mean, I can try but-” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“A cup!” she proclaims.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ll get you a cup.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Britney I am not gonna piss in a cup.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>That’s mostly a lie. My bladder is aching no matter how tightly I grip myself through my pockets so the very thought of relief of my own accord is almost making me drool.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Any better ideas?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fine, just stay out of the car.” I grumble, my voice breaking as a wave of desperation crashes into me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Panic is rapidly setting in as my desperation seems to worsen by the second. I don’t know if it’s the seat belt digging into me or the fact that my brain now sees release as an option in the near future but suddenly I’m gripping the fabric of my jeans and continuously shifting my hips and grinding into the seat without even meaning to. I desperately try to stop as I notice Britney, but it’s impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there. Can you wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I don’t know! Britney hurry! Please! Oh god, please.” I say as I break down crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh sweetheart, you have to go really bad don’t you?” she softly sighs, her voice dripping with so much more sympathy than I deserve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, that doesn’t help. I sniff my tears back, feeling ridiculous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just please hurry.” I whimper as she exits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re super close, see? You can see it up there. And afterwards you don’t have to hold it anymore for the rest of the drive, okay? I’ll get you plenty of cups, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I want to die. The fact that it even came down to this makes me wanna die. The mere thought is pure torture as we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. A sharp wave of pain and desperation hits and a long leak escapes and soaks into my boxers. I’m left with really no other choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-Ah! Can’t! I’m so sorry, I can’t wait!” I panic as she parks and I immediately swing open the car door and make a mad dash into the building. She chases after me at probably the fastest I’ve ever seen her run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?!” she calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My sheer need to empty my bladder has taken over all of my common sense. I need to pee right now and that’s all that matters. I dash into the restroom with hardly a second thought until I become even more panicked realizing what the hell I’m doing. I debate turning around and going out until the dam bursts and I can feel the front of my jeans becoming soaking wet in a matter of seconds. In a panic, I press my body up against the urinal to at least avoid making more of a mess than I already have on the ground, though it doesn’t do too much good as the pain causes me to recoil and double over.. The relief is so overwhelming and yet utterly painful that I have no choice but to give a moan of double meaning as my legs tremble and I finally reach a point where I can at least try to hold it without issue again so I quit pissing and start realizing where I am. That’s when I panic. There are several reasons. A, I’m in a public bathroom; B, it is the wrong bathroom at that; and C my jeans are soaked. I feel my throat closing up as the reality of the situation sinks in and my brain goes on autopilot as my stomach drops. I sit down trembling and trying really hard not to panic. Truthfully, I want to die. I place my shaking hands on the sides of my head to try to drown out the now somehow deafening sounds of my surroundings and my heartbeat and begin to rock in panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck. No no no. .” I uncontrollably murmur to myself as I dig my nails into my upper arms and shiver. Nausea overwhelms me and I can’t stop the tears and I can hardly move. I wanna restart this fucked up game, this isn't what I want the ending to be like but there isn’t anywhere to go from here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear the door creak open and suddenly I can’t move at all, aside from my bladder lurching again, which I’m luckily able to stop “Cam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out! Don’t touch me! Get out, get out, get out!” I cry, curling further into my ball. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit.” Britney whispers as she hurries over to me, “It's okay. You’re alright. I know, I know. I’m so sorry that there wasn’t anything I could do before. Come on, let’s get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I'm too freaked out to stand and too embarrassed to even walk out like this so I furiously shake my head. On top of the panic there is no way to hide the state of my pants and floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's okay, Cammy. I've got you. Come on, let's get out of here, okay? Let’s try and get you home as fast as we can alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s trying to soothe me, but I can clearly hear the panic in her voice.I grip onto her arm and she puts her hand around my back and helps me up. My legs are shaking beneath me and I can’t stand without her supporting me. She nervously glances around and pulls me into the handicap stall. I can’t find the words to protest being here any longer so all I’m able to do is whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know.”, she whispers, “But there’s people out there and I don’t want you going out like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod, trying to wipe my tears despite my glasses being in the way. They rub against my face and it kind of hurts. She rubs my shoulder and takes the glasses off, kissing away my tears leaving me with dry cheeks but sputtery breaths that make me feel more nauseous with each breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. It was an accident, it’s not your fault. You panicked, it’s okay. It’s gonna be alright, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I help you?” she says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That only makes the reality of the situation and the sheer embarrassment I feel even worse. Fucking kill me already. I violently pull away from her and slam into the stall door as hard as I can. I don’t know what I think that’s gonna do, it’s not enough to even knock me out. It hurts like a bitch though. Britney doesn’t say anything, but somehow is able to wrestle me to the ground and into her lap. I struggle to free myself but she won’t let me go. In a panic I try to defend myself, but she’s got my arms pinned and in the position I’m in kicking isn’t gonna do shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me go! Please!” I scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clasps a hand over my mouth. I’m trying to protest through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cam, you’re gonna make them call the cops, christ!” she hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-Please let me go. Please, Brit!” I choke, constantly reminding myself I’m in Britney’s arms and no one else's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you swear you’re not gonna hurt yourself again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod forcefully as her grip loosens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, listen I’m gonna go get you some clean clothes okay? Do you think you can hang tight in here for just a minute or two and start getting yourself cleaned up? I’ll be fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod trying to breathe through my tears to little to no avail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kisses my cheeks and leaves the stall, I lock it behind her and wait until she’s out of the restroom before hitting my head against the wall again. It’s like every time I think I’ve hit rock bottom and the only way to go is up I just keep sinking lower. I shakily exhale, fuck, I need to at least try to calm down for the time being. I glance around the stall, eyeing the toilet. I still kind of have to go and I’ve made it this far. Might as well use it. I shrug and peel my wet jeans and underwear off my thighs, shaking like crazy as I do so. Just as I’m about to sit I hear the door open. There’s no way Brit is already back. My weak legs give out and I sit. I instinctively nearly start going, but my mind refuses and makes me hold it anyway. My legs are shaking as I bite my knuckle in pain and try to keep entirely quiet out of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, what the fuck?!” a voice much too deep to be Britney’s calls from outside the stall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit! Somehow thinking on my feet, I realize I should probably attempt to hide myself. He’s gonna see my shoes. In one swift motion I get up and pivot so my back is against the hinge of the stall, shaking from head to toe with my hand clasped firmly over my mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamn someone has shit aim. How many holes does your fuckin dick have, man?” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After being so ready to start pissing, my bladder is begging me to please follow through and the sound of Dick Hole Counter over here doing just that is absolute torture and at this point I’m too weak to take it. I try to hold it, but I can’t and piss starts trickling down my legs in short spurts that I try to cut off to no avail. I don’t dare make a sound. Tears are streaming down my face but I just hope he can’t hear my piss dribbling onto the tile over his hitting porcelain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you doing?!” he yells. My bladder finishes emptying in panic on the spot and I stammer trying to find an answer from inside the stall without throwing up my anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry!” Britney yelps, “I just, need to come in for one second and I’ll leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh thank fuck. He hasn’t seen me and Britney is here with my salvation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl, what the fuck? Hell nah, get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, this is disgustingly ironic. If he tries to lay a finger on her I’m gonna go absolutely mental. Well, more mental than now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. Hear me out, my boyfriend is sick and I need to make sure he’s alright, okay? Then I’ll get out, I also don’t want me to be in here.” she says, I can hear her footsteps approaching the stall door. Thank god she thought of something, fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever man, I’m out this shit whack.” he huffs. I hear the door slam behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cam?” she softly calls knocking on the stall door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink back tears as I shyly open it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-Watch your step.” I cringe, averting her gaze and the mess on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realize that there is a toi-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk about it.” I wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She must sense the sheer exhaustion in my voice because she actually lets up for once and hands me a plastic McDonalds bag with a clean set of clothes in it, kisses me on the cheek, and walks over to the stall door again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get changed and then let’s get you home, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod tearfully and glance up at her, “Are you mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how hard this is for you. Get cleaned up, I’ll meet you outside.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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